


Without Shade

by inklet



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Banter, Committed Relationship, Consensual, Kissing, Long-Term Relationship(s), M/M, Public Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-09
Updated: 2015-01-09
Packaged: 2018-03-06 14:07:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3137168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inklet/pseuds/inklet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Inquisitor utilizes a window, exposes a secret, and romances a certain Tevinter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Without Shade

**Author's Note:**

> I've left out the physical description of the Inquisitor so that readers can easily insert their character. Enjoy, Inquisitors.

Contentment, you recently discovered, is the feeling of Dorian's skin under your hands and the prickle of his mustache on your lips.

With little words exchanged, you heatedly tangle with him in the privacy of your quarters. He walks backwards until he's met with the resistance of cold glass. "Wait," he breaks a kiss to huskily demand, but your lips retreat to busily tend to his neck. He smells deliciously familiar.

"You've not gone deaf on me, have you? Funny thing. You listened well enough when I proposed we slip away together not but five minutes ago. Come, we must move away from the window. Quickly." Sluggishly, he tries to lead you, a hand on your shoulder.

When he moves to break away, you use the change in position against him. With a gentle thud, he's turned around so that his chest is held against the window's flat surface. Carefully threading your fingers within his hair, you tilt back his head with a downwards jerk of your arm. Finishing that fleet of kisses at the nape of his neck, your thumb rubs soothing circles in the beautifully dark flesh of his exposed shoulder.

In any other case, you'd get an earful for mussing with his tidily-kept locks. He suppresses a muted growl instead and you consider yourself lucky.

"You fool, it's broad daylight. Use your head, I know you're perfectly capable. Merchant's post is but a few paces off," he strains, aching to resonate with a reluctant shred of you that does not exist. With your other hand, you pet the side of his head.  
  
"Yes," you concur, unperturbed, your voice a purr and your mouth up against his temple. "Let them see. Let the view outside our window be as beautiful looking in."  
  
A snort meets your passionate remark. Half-sheepish, but primarily dismissive, and Dorian clears his throat to prevent himself from sounding like a lovestruck girl carelessly chuckling her amusement. He straightens his composure and shakes his head.

"Sweet of you, but an obtusely fanciful perspective. They'll see. We'll be found out. So on and so forth." He cracks his neck idly, seemingly unfazed by the way he's locked between your body and the frigid glass of the vast window. "It will change and complicate things."

He must not have understood when you told him earlier you didn't mind gossip. You make a sound of mock intrigue.

Shivering, his thick brows are knit with concern that ebbs at each caress. "Listen to me. Word would spread like wildfire. They'll know."

"It's alright."

"Maker, that's frighteningly impetuous logic to tumble from the mind of one who must fulfill the role of 'prestigious leader.' Don't speak as though we'd not both be doomed to prolific repercussions." He sounds firm, but he is pleading when he goes on. "You will regret this."

"It's alright," you repeat in a whisper. "Hush. Feel me."

Smashing your hips flush against his backside, you trap him in between your body and the smooth barrier. He moans at the pressure. Heart aflutter, the mage is helpless to the many eyes residing in the lower parts of Skyhold, should they choose to spare a glimpse upward toward the Inquisitor's chambers. It's an intense thought and Dorian shuts his eyes to it, overwrought.  
  
"I am not ashamed of you or our partnership," you tell him lightly. "I'm too fond of this to hide it forever. Realistically, they are all bound to find out sooner or later. It's a predictable game of cat and mouse in the events leading up, and I'm quite through with it if you are."

A grunt. "Considering what your crotch firmly planted against my buttocks is implying, I could be as bold as to say your judgement is less than sound at the moment. I'd be curious to see whether or not the sentiment wades past the sobering affects of a little romp."

You chuckle, but he stiffens, muttering. "I was not joking. Your arousal inebriates your discernment like a drunkard at a gambling table."

"If we are to talk about inebriated discernment, there's a great deal more to be said about yours."

Dorian glowers. He's silent for a long moment. "Move." He's weak and quiet and seems not to approve of his own decision, the word forced from his lips with an odd sense of detachment. He did not own it, somehow.

Picking up on this, you hesitate. You have never and would never force him, so your arms slacken. "Is that what you want?"

He scoffs. "Inquisitor, why is it that you always make a point to ask my opinion? 'Is that what you want, Dorian. Is that how you feel, Dorian. Let us chat at length about trivial things like whether or not you're in the mood to kiss me now or in fifteen minutes.' I don't understand."

"Is it not relevant? You should understand. It makes less sense that I'd not care," you say, eyebrows raising in puzzled amusement.

His tone softens, as does the features of his face. "It's not what I want. It's what you need to do to preserve your flawless repertoire. Our beloved saving grace, the epitome of purity! Andraste's..." He gasps. Having cut him off by closing your lips around his skin and sucking, this reaction pleases you. "You frisky shit," he scolds impishly.

"I love you."

This is not news. Still, Dorian has never said those words back. His eyes flee and plummet south. Had this silence ever phased you in the least, you'd likely have put an end to your repeated proclamations, but you do not tell him that so that he can return it. It's the truth.

What you don't know is that his chest is so tight with unspoken words he feel he may burst. He places his hand delicately on top of yours. Nuzzling against you, he turns his head and captures your lips with his. Your bodies seem to melt together.

"I'm just as through with it as you are," he mouths against your lips. "Very well. If you're ready to face this, let us face it together. And, so it is not forgotten, give them a hell of a show while we're at it." You kiss and kiss and toss aside all else in favor of each other.

Surprisingly, the outside world goes on around you both, and it's a while before fingers start pointing toward the intimate scene sprawled against the glass panel.


End file.
